


come closer

by noseforsatu (berryargento)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: After Verdant Wind, Body Worship, F/F, Mentions of abuse and scars, Post-Canon, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22834246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryargento/pseuds/noseforsatu
Summary: It takes warmth to dispel the nightmares.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Lysithea von Ordelia
Kudos: 29





	come closer

Working with Claude is always one roller coaster to another. It will specifically getting worse when Claude departed for Almyra for even a little while, leaving Hilda going here and there with the leader of unified Fodlan as her lackeys. Hilda would stack up whatever grudge she has during process and dump it all to Claude later when he is around, asking him for a payback for doing his work. Of course, she is half-joking about not wanting to help Claude, it’s just sometimes people could be so stressing and their Professor would try to quell Hilda’s anger (and distress) from time-to-time after the work is done.

Though, when Claude is present in lands of Fodlan, Hilda would step back from assisting Byleth, either looking out for other members of Golden Deer in their new lives after war, or loitering around Lorenz until he forced Hilda to do some jobs.

“—then, what happened after you declined Lorenz?”

“He is mad, of course. Though, Raphael was there to rescue so I don’t get an earful of his barking at least today.”

And around the night, as Hilda came back from whatever hellish moment (read: bossed by Claude, or Lorenz, or their ex-Professor) she had within the scope of governmental work or battle, she would occupy Lysithea’s room. Not every night Lysithea would welcome her presence as the younger woman would be deep in her own research of Shambala, but she would always, always listen to anything that Hilda had in mind. Sometimes, Hilda would ask first whether she is being a bother, and asking repeatedly about it while Lysithea is going from book to book and report to report.

Of all the Golden Deer members, Lysithea and Hilda were ones to occupy Garreg Mach rather than going back to their respective homes. It’s not like they don’t have a place to return to, it’s more like Hilda didn’t want to see Holst ever-so-often. Also it’s better for Hilda to be there in case of emergency, she can help on leading the knights over any disturbance with ease—much to her dismay, though. Lysithea had her research, also Garreg Mach Monastery is close to the three territories for her to collect data.

Hilda ever offered a resident in Goneril land before since it is the closest to Shambala. It faced yet another rejection, however. Lysithea is always like that in face of an offer—she wouldn’t try to be in a debt to anyone in particular, friend or not.

The pinkette watched with mild interest as Lysithea closed the book on her hand, then processing to smooth away her parchment before taking away the quill and ink bottle that she used. On the table, the single lantern that lighted the room rattled as Lysithea turned from the table to seek Hilda, who’s sitting on the bed, tapping her feet on the wooden floor.

“Taking off early?” Hilda gauged her response, or she tried to. Lysithea’s long, white eyelashes fluttered at the question. “Then, I suppose it’s my cue to be out-“

“Stay.”

At that, Hilda held her breath. Her gloved fingers find purchase somewhere on the linen sheets, distracting her sudden jump of thoughts elsewhere after hearing a stern call—perhaps close to a command—coming from Lysithea.

Her first instinct that coming after calming her rushing mind was worry.

“Are you … having nightmares again?”

Shambala, after all, is an unforgiving place. Hilda doesn’t want to repeat what Lysithea ever told to everyone once before they departed to take down the Agarthans in their nest. It wasn’t helping to know how Lysithea forcing herself more than Hilda could count. Claude asked Hilda to keep an eye on her quite often when they moved with plan in mind, making sure that Lysithea didn’t take things too far.

It took some while for Lysithea to admit that she had a recurring nightmare too for some restless nights.

When Lysithea shook her head to answer, Hilda let out a relieved sigh. The snow-haired woman shifted on her seat, her lips parted open though no words came out. The pinkette studied her for longer, watching those pale cheeks slightly color then Lysithea started to fidget under her gaze. Hilda wasn’t judging her, nor teasing – though she couldn’t help but to spare Lysithea a faint smile.

_Cute._

“Come closer?”

Lysithea never asked twice of where they are heading with the script.

* * *

If Hilda remembered correctly, she never once saw Lysithea when Golden Deer girls were having their bath hours. The little girl would be somewhere; on a corner of library studying, on a corner of training hall practicing her spells, or on a corner of the class, alone. Per usual, Hilda won’t really bother anyone having their alone time.

While she might encourage somebody like Marianne to speak up more, Hilda found herself to be cautious around Lysithea. It wasn’t like she hated her aloofness; it’s more to not getting in the girl’s way. They are polar opposites—the diligent Lysithea and the lazy Hilda—after all.

Then again, no one will be acquainted if nobody initiated any connection – everything changed as Hilda getting to know Lysithea more.

Hilda only found out later that the small body held many secrets, the very reason why she never let anybody close.

Lysithea occupied the space beside her on the bed, creaking sounds rippled as Hilda plucking away her purple veil from her hair. It only took Hilda a single flick to undo her robe from behind, though it would take her a while to stare.

The calluses on her hands from holding the axe, the battle scratches on her arms and legs - those were a mere understatement to the scars concealed behind the fluffy snow white hair.

Lysithea was red to the back of her neck, in which urged Hilda to leave a kiss. Straddling the taller woman on her lap, the pink-haired warrior drawn the mage nearer, trailing more kisses down the spine. Hilda would momentarily stop to press longer on the deeper scar, not forgetting to praise the smaller cuts as well, acknowledging each and every of them to be the part of Lady Ordelia that Hilda won’t dare to ever deny.

The shivers that coming as a response to Hilda’s ministration gauged her to do more, tasting the skin and sometimes bite on the flesh to keep the suppressed guttural voices coming from the younger woman.

Their height difference made it easier for Hilda to explore the expanse of white back, all the while the smaller frame on her hold will render her to a pause at times.

The scar didn’t stop to just her back. Lysithea has numerous cut everywhere, almost sporadic, painting her like a plague; each voiced aloud the unspoken bitter memories. There are holes on her upper arms. There are signs of strangulation on her wrists. She was thoroughly carved inside out as if she is made of clay.

Those carvings, those ‘art lines’, however, couldn’t be undone.

“… You’re staring at them again.”

“I can’t help it.”

Hilda swallowed, deepening her embrace to bury her face on the crook of the mage’s neck. “I … how can they do _these cruelty_ to you, Lys?”

“You always told me that they are beautiful.”

“Your scars are beautiful! Still-“

“Hilda.”

Lysithea shuffled slightly, reaching for the crown of pink hair to land a single, soft peck.

“Thank you,” she smiled. Hilda felt corners of her eyes burn. “It means a lot to me.”

Hilda didn’t hold herself back from crashing their lips together, melting even further to the feel of their dancing tongue until they landed on the bed. The pinkette would never hold on those beaten wrists, rather, she would slip their fingers to lace together, taking Lysithea to seek calluses on her hands and the growing heat of her palm.

“Hilda, please.”

In actuality, Lysithea _never_ really need to ask.


End file.
